Diary of a Mad Bride (21 page)

I
can't get Louise's damn giggling out of my head. She was too pleased. Like a kid sneaking an extra slice of cake when no one was looking.

Well, it better not be
my
cake that Louise is munching on! Wait a minute! How can I even think this way? Stephen and I are about to get married. Shouldn't I trust him implicitly?

MANDY

I can't believe you're calling me at two in the morning.

ME

If it makes you feel any better, I called Anita first but she hung up on me.

MANDY

Actually that makes this even more annoying.

ME

Sorry, but it's an emergency.

MANDY

No, it's not. You heard some woman giggling. They've been working for a thousand hours. She was probably just giddy from exhaustion. Like me. Tee-hee, tee-hee, tee-hee. See? I'm giddy from exhaustion too.

ME

Come on, Mandy. What if my sex dreams have driven Stephen away?

MANDY

Did you tell him about them?

ME

Of course not. But what if he
sensed
them?

MANDY

Listen to me, Amy. Men sense almost nothing. It's their best and worst trait. Now go to bed. I'll tell you when it's time to worry.

A
gainst my better judgment I took Mandy's advice. Twice. First, I decided not to worry about Stephen and Louise. Although I did ask him to start sleeping over again. And for the record, he was very pleased.

Second, I went to Mandy's printers.

Berington Stationers is located just around the corner from Tiffany's. It's filled with “sales associates” seated in Louis the Schmooey chairs behind Louis the Schmooey desks. Each desktop is oddly devoid of any office supplies, save a single pad of linen paper embossed with the store's name. The sales associates, all of whom are women, wear conservative blue dresses and a single strand of pearls.

The woman I dealt with was so uptight and brittle I was afraid she'd snap in two. Ms. Handel must have sensed I wasn't the typical Berington customer, because during our five-minute conversation she mentioned six times that Berington uses only the highest quality paper and engraving,
both of which are quite “precious.” Read: expensive. Or more likely: overpriced.

Disgusted by her wealthier-than-thou attitude, and horrified to discover that her attempts to shame me were in fact working, I thoughtfully shook my head and sighed. “I'll have my driver bring my secretary over tomorrow morning. She'll give you the necessary details and choose the paper.” Uncertain as to how to reply, Ms. Handel cagily asked for my name and phone number—ostensibly to schedule an appointment for the following day.

I happily complied. “Miss Astrid Rockefeller, 555-5633.”

My one regret upon leaving Berington Stationer's was that I wouldn't see Ms. Handel's face when she called the Leather Fetishists Chat Line.
³⁹

A
nthony the inventor. I'd forgotten how good he looked wet.

S
tephen may actually have a case against the city.

According to Larry, the pothole Stephen tripped on is six months overdue for repair. It's a clear example of municipal negligence. They're filing a complaint next week. Terrific. Now he'll never deal with the band issue.

I
can't stop thinking about that rhinestone comb at the Bridal Building. It would look great alongside Lucy's enamel barrette. Except I'll have to find some twelve-year-old to buy it for me. How nuts is that? It's like some cosmic payback for all those high school years I spent convincing adults to buy me beer.

A
fter briefly deciding to use my free time to make my own wedding invitations with a computer, I remembered that I have no free time. So I went to Bunny's Printing Emporium in Chinatown. I chose Bunny's based on her well-worded advertisement in the Yellow Pages—“Nice, Speedy, Cheap.” Located between a dumpling house and a porn shop, Bunny's was about as far from Berington Stationers as you could get. Anywhere from sixty to seventy-five years old, Bunny herself stood behind the counter, dressed in a nylon jogging suit. Her overflowing ashtray and the garbage can filled with Budweiser empties revealed that she smoked almost as much as she drank.

Stranded on a deserted island without food, Bunny would have Ms. Handel for lunch, then pick her teeth clean with the remains.

After listening to Bunny's tale about how her printing shop was there “long before the Chinks came to town,” I explained my desperate situation. It turns out that in addition to being racist Bunny is also fully knowledgeable about her industry. Willing to inform and ready to haggle, Bunny provided me with a quick education about wedding invitations, which boils down to:

Colored paper, illustrated designs, special enclosures, calligraphy, and engraving all cost more.

I settled on a medium weight, cream-colored paper, thermal printing, and standard R.S.V.P. enclosures. I personally would address the envelopes, using my laser printer at work. On Bunny's advice the invitation's distinctive touch would come from its clever wording. As Bunny reminded me, “Talk is cheap.”

S
tephen's grandparents sent me a present. Although the gesture was incredibly thoughtful I suspect Mrs. Brockton hasn't bonded with my decision to keep my maiden name. The present was a throw pillow with the name “Mrs. Stephen Stewart” embroidered on both sides.

Now I don't have a new identity. I have
no
identity.

I
asked Anita to use her twelve-year-old niece, Molly, as a front and buy the hair comb from Mrs. Cho at the Bridal Building.

Sure, it would mean Anita taking the train out to Queens. But she's my best friend. I'd do it for her. And Molly lives in Queens. So it really could be viewed as a nice family outing for the two of them.

Besides, I
NEED
that hair comb.

After I begged and pleaded she finally gave me a halfhearted “yes.” Which was fine, since she also gave me a handful of sleeping pills that she'd pirated from the health editor at
Teen Flair.

A
nita's sleeping pills knocked me out cold. Not a sex dream in sight. Unfortunately they also left me groggy and gullible.

When my mother asked how the wedding plans were going—Why wasn't the florist coming to see the site? Why wasn't the caterer coming to see the kitchen?—I actually answered her.
Honestly.
I told her I was having trouble finding a caterer. That our florist was dragging his feet. But that I did have a photographer and as soon as he got a break from chasing fires, knifings, and shoot-outs he'd surely stop by to say hi.

She offered to help.

I may have been overly medicated, but I wasn't stupid. I know her offer was well-intentioned, but the best-laid plans…I could just see it: I let her help with some small task and before I know it she's wiping everyone's nose, handing out multiplication flash cards, and ordering ninety hot lunches from the school cafeteria. With value and size as her main objectives, TASTE is destined to be overlooked.

Despite Stephen's insistence that it might be a good idea, I politely declined.

S
tephen was panicked because the computer program he's been working on was almost complete when they found a flaw in it. His company's future is depending on the success of this program. If the program fails or isn't released by early September he's out of a job. So I understand that he's under a lot of pressure.

But does that mean we have to get PLAID dishes?

No joke. There we were, standing in the middle of Bloomingdale's trying to register for wedding gifts, and Stephen decides he wants the plaid dishes. Plaid. Like that damn couch isn't enough for him. He wants to see plaid at every meal for the rest of our lives, because you know we're keeping these dishes until the day we die. They're BONE CHINA, for Christ's sake. We'll never spend the money on another set.

It was our first real fight since the engagement. He refused to budge and I refused to give in. We were at a complete impasse. And then it hit me—How can we get married if we can't even agree on a china pattern?

So I broke down in tears.

P
rudence doesn't want to get married. That's what her expression's all about. Trapped against her will in
BB
's glossy cover, Prudence is straining to warn me, “Don't do it, Amy. You can still turn back!”

I
f I burn my hateful “Things To Do” list, will it wash away my woes?

Official THINGS TO DO List

1. Choose wedding date

2. Tell boss wedding date

3. Vacation time for honeymoon

4. Decide on honeymoon

5. Get minister

6. Choose reception venue

7. Make guest list

8. Choose maid of honor

9. Choose best man

10. Register for gifts

11. Arrange for engagement party

12. Buy engagement ring

13. Buy wedding rings

14. Buy wedding dress

15. Choose maid of honor dress

16. Order wedding cake

17. Hire caterer

18. Hire band for reception

19. Order flowers for ceremony

20. Buy shoes

21. Plan rehearsal dinner

22. Invites to rehearsal dinner

23. Hire musicians for ceremony

24. Decide on dress code

25. Get marriage license

26. Hire videographer

27. Hire photographer

28. Order table flowers

29. Order bouquets

30. Order boutonnieres for men

31. Order nosegays for women

32. Order invitations

33. Decide on wine selection

34. Postage for invitations

35. Choose hairstyle and makeup

36. Buy gifts for attendants

37. Buy thank-you notes

38. Announce wedding in newspaper

39. Buy headpiece

40. Buy traveler's checks for honeymoon

41. Apply for visas

42. Get shots and vaccinations

43. Order tent if necessary

44. Order chairs/tables if necessary

45. Make budget

46. Divide expenses

47. Make table-seating charts

48. Choose bridesmaid dress

49. Decide on menu

50. Decide on hors d'oeuvres

51. Decide on dinner-service style

52. Decide on staff-guest ratio

53. Decide seated or buffet

54. Reserve vegetarian meals

55. Reserve band/photographer/videographer meals

56. Make photo list

57. Choose hotel for wedding night

58. Hire limo for church-reception transport

59. Buy guest book for reception

60. Find hotel for out-of-towners

61. Decide on liquor selection

62. Hire bartenders

63. Verify wheelchair accessibility

64. Choose processional music

65. Choose recessional music

66. Choose cocktail music

67. Choose reception music

68. Choose ceremony readings

69. Prepare birdseed instead of rice

70. Schedule manicure/pedicure/wax